


They Dreamed, I Dropped

by dreamtowns



Series: Dreams and Drops [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Flashbacks to character death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Character Death, Panic Attacks, Post-Keyblade War, first story of the fandom, it's a little rushed, slight gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9246155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtowns/pseuds/dreamtowns
Summary: For a while, Sora lived in his small world of three — it included himself, Kairi, and Riku. They were his everything, and he was theirs. But then their little world of sunshine and seas was swallowed by a thriving darkness, and they were thrown into the midst of a chaos that once spanned decades. Suddenly, Sora was on his own for the first time in forever, and while he kept his smile on his face, he found himself drowning instead of swimming.Five years later, they’re living in Radiant Guardian as Keyblade Masters — and Sora wonders on when their relationship came to be so awkward and distant, and he is keen on ignoring the hurt that sprawls over his skin.(a year after Xehanort is defeated, all of the Keybearers live in the newly designed castle of Radiant Garden, and Sora is secretly an Empath.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Kingdom Hearts nor its’ franchise. It belongs to Square Enix and its’ developers. No money is being made. No copyright infringement intended. 
> 
> I apologize for any spelling errors. I made this really sad without meaning to. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Sora wakes with the taste of ash settling on his tongue. His cheeks are wet with salty tears, and his nose is running. Phantom fingers dance across his skin — fingers that make shapes on his shoulder blades, fingers that curl around his own with a promise of forever, fingers that trace his lips, fingers that press against his heart — and an ache sinks deep inside of him. He breathes in and out, controlling breaths that hitch every now and then from the sobs that rise in his throat, feeling hundreds of emotions — meaningful ones, insipid ones, small bursts, and bursts that made his skin itch — crawl inside of him.

He breathes out another breath, right as another burst of dreadful despair swallows Ventus. Sora closes his eyes despite sleep having evaded his grasp for quite some time now. His heart thumps against his chest; a steady, comforting beat. It reminds him that he was still alive, still breathing, still living. Down the hall, two doors down, Aqua slips into dreamland with a bubble of mirth and satisfaction thrumming inside of her.

Deep inside of him, there is a whisper.

_Sorry, Sora._

Despite the situation, despite the taste of ash, a smile curls Sora’s lips. _It’s okay,_ Sora murmurs. _You miss him._ There wouldn’t be a response. Those who resided in his heart would only reply in his dreams. Dreams were shared between them — between Sora, Roxas, and Xion. Ventus, too, when he had been drifting in Sora’s heart. Sora hadn’t known it before, but they communicated through dreams and unconscious states. Sometimes, whenever he woke, Sora would remember their wandering memories, feel the ghost of touches that they once felt, and their emotions would always sift underneath his skin.

It had been awhile since Roxas had dreamed of Axel — or, well, it was Lea now.

Sunlight pokes inside of his room, casting lighthearted shadows that creeps along his plain walls. The clock moves to six a.m., two hours later as Sora grasps his bearings, and heaves a heavy sigh. Apprehension, and slight grief, from Roxas builds up in his throat, and Xion’s supportive emotions propels Sora out of bed. Regardless of expectation, Sora had always been the last to fall asleep and the first to rise. The only one who rivaled him was Terra, who slept odd hours.

As he walks towards the kitchens, his stomach grumbling, Sora slips into his habit of checking others’ emotional balance. Aqua is still sleeping, Sora notes, so her emotions were static and distant, like waves flickering on the shore. Feeling slightly frustrated but, overall, spirited, Terra does push-ups in his room. Sora can’t feel Riku and Kairi, their emotions muted, but he knew they were in their own dreamlands. Lea’s in the gardens, practicing with the dummies Aqua conjured most likely, and all Sora got from him was hazy determination and a fierce, spitting, desire of something he isn’t able to name. The desire crawls up and down his spine, and Sora has to fight off the subsequent shudders.

Ventus is in the kitchen as Sora strolls in, and says a jaunty, “Morning!”

Sora blinks at him, feeling the others’ dysphoria wrapping around his waist. Sora mutters his greeting before rummaging around the kitchen for a small, efficient breakfast as he gauges Ventus’s emotions. If he tried hard enough, Sora was able to focus on one person’s emotions for a short period of time. He didn’t do it often, though, since it gave him a serious migraine.

Migraines were deadly during the war.

However, Ventus’ emotions slips over him as though it was water. Maybe it was because Ventus was in his heart once upon a time, or maybe it’s because they were so alike, but whatever the reason, Sora had always found it easy to figure out Ventus’ emotional state. Munching on his cereal, Sora takes a seat next to Ventus. Not too close to be stifling, but not too far away to be isolating.

Just what Ventus needed.

Ventus sniffed. “I’m _fine_ , Sora.”

Sora hummed around a spoonful of Cheerios. Deep in his conscious, he can hear the fragments of Xion chuckling, a tinkling sound that rings in his ears. _Sure he is._

Sora fights the urge to smile, and continues to eat his breakfast. His arm dangles at his side, an open invitation, and Ventus takes it only a few seconds later. Curling his fingers against Sora’s, Ventus murmurs, admits, “It was easier, you know. Being in your heart.”

A lump grows in Sora’s throat because Ventus wasn’t entirely wrong. In a way, the world was a simpler place to live in when Ventus fumbled around inside of his heart, his subconscious, and they’d eat ice cream and spar whenever Sora dreamed. Sometimes, Ventus would think fleetingly of Terra and Aqua (but they don’t speak of the days where Ventus ~~spoke~~ ~~dreamed~~ thought of Vanitas, and yearned _~~mourned~~_ for his other half, for the darker part of his soul, _~~for his brother~~_ because those were the worst days, remembering Vanitas and remembering the abuse he’d gone through simply due to the machinations of an old man wishing to rewrite history), and would drown in his feelings for them.

Back then, it was easy to color the world in black and white. Good and Bad. Right and Wrong. The Light was Good, with superheroes and Princesses of Heart, and Kairi, and Yuffie, and Cloud. The Dark was where Heartless and Dream Eaters and Nobodies roamed, where villains who had Maleficent’s cackle held court, and planned to control Kingdom Hearts. In those days, Sora blindly followed Donald and Goofy because they were Light, and he went against what his soul screamed and cried _~~went against Riku and Kairi, rushing headfirst into danger, ignoring the desperate ache that spiraled up his throat and choked him whenever Riku was in the vicinity~~_.

Shading in those stagnant colors wasn’t easy anymore. There was no rose colored glass covering Sora’s eyes. He had grown and matured in various ways, understanding what he had done without a single thought. He understood that he was immature in dealing with Organization XIII, painting them as evil simply because he couldn’t understand what it was like to be a Nobody, to be a Body without a Heart. He was reckless, beating them because he didn’t understand and because they were obstacles that were in his way, but it wasn’t until Axel’s death and Roxas awakening inside of him and remnants of Xion’s memories billowing inside of his heart that Sora truly understood everything he had committed under the haze of Good and Evil.

It was difficult, comprehending the fact that he had become a murderer at the ripe age of fourteen.

(Sora shut himself in his room for weeks upon end, days blurring together until he didn’t remember if day was night or night was day. All Sora did was wallow, and remember the emotions that pressed against his skin whenever he fought against a member of the Organization, remember their agony, their loneliness, their _desperation_. Ventus was the one who dragged him out, quite literally, because Ventus understood, because Ventus was once a part of him, because Ventus was once _there_ ).

Secretly, he had made graves for them and would randomly bring flowers that reminded him of who they once were. They had lived, and breathed, and cried, but they were still considered Nobodies simply because they didn’t have a Heart.

 _But I’m not a Nobody,_ Roxas had once cried in a distant dream, the hollowness that he felt curling inside the pit of Sora’s stomach. _I have emotions. I have dreams. I have a_ _—_

 _That’s the thing, Rox,_ Axel had whispered. _Nobodies don’t have hearts. Therefore, we don’t have emotions. In fact, we shouldn’t even be alive._

 _But_ _—,_ Roxas had protested, tears brimming.

Axel smiled softly, and it was a smile that made Sora awaken with tears streaming down his face. _Got it memorized?_

“Yeah,” Sora murmurs after a while, the cereal soggy and partially disgusting to his pallet. “It was.”

Their early morning was quiet and peaceful until Lea made a ruckus entering the kitchen, bumping into things and swearing up a storm until Ventus threatens to wash his mouth out with a cleaning spell. Lea snorts, chuckling with ease, as though he wasn’t once a Nobody, as though he wasn’t once swallowed by the darkness, _~~as though he was never Axel in the first place~~_ , and continues in his search for edible food. The raucous noise causes Terra to amble inside the kitchen, his emotions lazy and lull as the pitter patter by Sora’s feet.

He beams at them, ruffling their hair as he passes them by, and positions himself in front of the fridge to drink the milk from the carton.

“Gross,” Kairi yawns, scrunching up her nose. She scratches her stomach as she plops down in front of Sora, stealing his half-eaten breakfast. “Get a glass, T.”

Terra rolls his eyes. This was a normal procedure for breakfast.

“Who wants pancakes?” Lea cheered from the stove, where he was gathering materials to make a breakfast ‘worthy of a king’.

“No thanks,” Kairi sighs. Her exhaustion creeps along the edges of Sora’s fingers, passing through like gentle waves. She quirks an eyebrow in Lea’s direction one he starts cracking eggs. “Don’t burn the kitchen again, Oh Master Chef.”

“One time!” Lea cries with a flare of agitation. “One time that happened, Kairi! I’ve improved!”

Terra snorts, mirth rising to tickle Sora’s sides. Ventus giggles, and Sora focuses on smiling as though he was alright. Ventus notices, and his concern is warm against Sora’s cheek. Telepathic communication isn’t possible for them anymore, and it makes Sora drown in loneliness a little because Ventus had always been there during Sora’s life; he was constant, an older brother, a sibling, a friend, but now it seemed as though they were separated by an invisible wall, on different sides of an imaginary war.

Instead, Sora squeezes Ventus’ fingers.

The tip of his lips quirks in response, and another wave of concern washes over Sora. It wasn’t like Aqua’s worry, which had a mothers’ urgency, or Kairi’s which reminded him of a calm before the storm, or Terra’s which was wild and brazen, making Sora feel as though he had stepped out of a blender. Ventus’ worry was warm and quiet, gentle but persevering. Riku stumbles inside the kitchen with distant sleepiness wrapping around Sora’s ankles, and Ventus’ grip tightens.

The ache inside of Sora stretches and echoes, and Sora thinks it’s becoming unbearable — breathing, that is.

“Sora?” Ventus murmurs quietly, so quiet that Sora wonders on if he heard it at all. Yet there is expectancy sifting in Ventus’ concern so Sora nods, a cheery smile dancing on his face, as he replies, “I’m fine.”

 _Liar,_ Xion whispers.

Sora does his best to reply with the mental equivalent of sticking his tongue out childishly. Somewhere deep, and distant, there is an echo of Roxas’s laughter. The ache sprawls and sharpens, a poisonous dagger, as Lea begins to hum a whimsical tune. Sora doesn’t recognize it, but those who dwell in his heart can. He hears their sharp intakes of breath, fees Roxas’s guilt and grief, feels Xion’s emptiness and yearning, and it spirals upwards until Sora feels like he’s drowning, _choking_.

Ventus’s fingers are going to leave marks, Sora thinks lightly, as the males’ grip tightens painfully. His concern flares, a burning touch against Sora’s skin, but it’s when Lea begins to sing certain words that Sora thinks, _time to leave_.

“I’m going to go practice,” he announces but rushes out of the kitchen before anyone could say a word.

Ventus’s concern threatens to drown him, and Kairi’s sharply cuts into his side like a knife, and Riku’s tastes like poison on his tongue, but Sora is too overwhelmed. There are too many emotions dancing on his skin, too many thoughts ( _too many hearts_ ) thundering inside of his mind. He needs a break. He wants one. He needs—

“Sora?” Aqua catches his wrist as he storms past her. Her touch is warm, and so is her concern. Her fondness is almost enough to drown out the others. Almost. “Is everything alright?”

There is still grief and longing and pure sadness that swells inside of his chest, and threatens to break him into pieces.

“Yup!” Sora chirps brightly, as though he isn’t about to break and shatter and crumble. He smiles, a watery one that makes Aqua’s concern sharper, and pulls his hand out of her grip. “I’m going to go train a bit.”

Aqua bites down on her bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Sora says, and Roxas snorts.

 _Ironic,_ he mutters. _Clearly, you’re anything but._

 _Shush you,_ Sora tells him.

Xion’s light giggle makes him feel a bit lighter than before.

Slowly, Aqua nods, whispers, “Alright.”

Sora wastes no time in getting outside. The sun’s heat bore down heavily on Radiant Garden, and Sora gulps in the fresh air as though it was his birthright. His feet take him to the gates of the castle, and Sora finds himself wandering the Village nestled a ten-minute walk away from the castle. Small children scatter about with wooden swords or toys, some of them play-fight and others cluster in groups with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Sora places his hands in his pockets and smiles at the sight of their innocence.

Majority of the adults that he passes give him cheerful waves and vibrant smiles but there were some who had dark circles around their eyes and carried themselves with paranoia and the shudders of those who remembered when Radiant Garden had been swallowed by darkness, and transformed into Hollow Bastion. Those adults remembered the hearts that were lost, and the threat that hung deafeningly over their little town.

The lump in Sora’s throat grows as he walks down familiar paths.

 He finds Isa ( _the name’s Saix, Keyblade Master_ ) wiping down a counter inside of a coffee shop where Lea frequents. He looks up, blue locks falling in his eyes, and Sora averts his attention elsewhere. It’s difficult, peering at Lea and Isa sometimes. (Sometimes Sora wants to yell at them, scream until his voice went hoarse, and say, _I killed you. I killed you without remorse. I murdered you. I watched you die. Why are you being so nice to me? To the one who caused your deaths?_ But Sora swallows those urges, swallows the intent, and the words drown in his lungs).

God, Sora doesn’t even _want to see_ Demyx, see the person he was before the darkness came. The way Sora practically _slaughtered_ the blond still makes him wake with sobs rising in his throat. Sora feels tears prickle the edges of his eyes as his mind has an internal battle. The grief, sorrow, and yearning still builds up in his chest, infests his lungs, and Sora wonders if this is where he falls apart at the seams.

 _Damn_.

 _You’re going to be okay,_ Xion says, her tone comforting.

When?! Sora wants to scream. When will I be okay again?

Ever since Destiny Islands was swallowed by the dark, and Sora was thrown headfirst into a war, pitted blindly against the Dark, relentlessly searching for Kairi and intent on saving Riku from his own teenage stupidity (because _honestly –_ working with Maleficent of all people?!), and mourning the loss of his family, _and then_ on top of sacrificing himself for Kairi to live, and allowing Riku to get trapped in the Darkness, and losing his precious memories ( _because someone wished to use him as a weapon),_  and then willingly going to a coma (“sleep” put it nicely.), and losing a year of his life (that he will never get back), and finding out that he was literally _half a person_ , his world has been desolate and bleak.

Being able to feel everyone’s emotions didn’t help him at all.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sora spots Isa greet a costumer with a bright smile on his face, and all Sora can picture is the way the life drained out of Saix’s orbs as Sora stood above him, with Goofy and Donald fighting Nobodies in the background, and blood drips from his keybalde and seeps on the stainless floor underneath Saix—

He can’t do this.

 _I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t_ _—_

When the sharp, biting haze of grief simmers down to a level Sora can breathe with, he finds himself staring at a familiar wooden ceiling. The sounds of a cheerful whistle, and computers buzzing in the background, makes him think of one word, one person.

“Merlin,” slips out of his tongue.

How could he forget that Merlin had a house in Radiant Garden?

“Glad to see you’re awake, Sora!” calls a voice that was too high-pitched to belong to the old sorcerer. Yuffie grins down at him, her bangs falling into her face. “Gave me quite a scare, watching you collapse outside the house.”

Sora blinks.

The grin on Yuffie’s face doesn’t dim. “You seem so shocked to see me. I’m hurt.”

 _She needs to shut up,_ Roxas growls.

Distantly, Xion scolds him, telling him to be nicer. Roxas huffs, and goes quiet. Back to sleep, Sora guesses.

Yuffie’s emotions glide over him with gentle, feather-like touches. She’s content, and a little worried, as she peers at him with those wide eyes of hers. Her worry wraps around his neck as she notices his lack of reaction, and she asks, “Do you want me to get Riku? Or Kairi?”

“N-no,” Sora says, sitting up despite feeling as though his head would split into two. The taste of cotton balls dance on his tongue, and his throat burns with the desire for water. His fingers tremble against his sides, and his legs feel nonexistent. When was the last time he had an attack? He can’t remember, tries not to remember. He’d hate to set himself off again. Sora breaths in, calculating the tremor in his lungs, and thinks, _I hate this._

“I’m okay,” he assures, though he isn’t certain on _who_ he’s trying to assure. Himself or Yuffie? “I’m fine.”

Yuffie perches herself on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think you are,” she tells him. She reaches over, but she hesitates slightly before placing her hand atop his. Her concern is warm like her touch. “I think you’re hurting, Sora, but you don’t want to admit it.”

Sora blinks and repeats, “I’m fine.”

Yuffie removes her hand and snorts. “Okay, Sora.”

“I’m fine,” Sora whispers, echoes, even though the people inside of his heart murmur, _no, you’re not._

 _But it’s okay, Sora,_ Xion says.

 _You don’t need to be strong all the time,_ Roxas murmurs.

With slow limbs, Sora slips off the bed and onto his feet. “I’ll be going now,” he tells Yuffie. “The others are – they’re worrying, probably.”

Yuffie nods. Her worry is still wrapping around his neck but isn’t tight anymore. It’s limp against his shoulders. “Take care,” she yells as he makes his way back to the castle, back to the others. He turns his head and smiles brightly, as though shadows never haunt his dreams.

The castle is quiet as he slips inside. The others are training, most likely, or lounging about seeing as how its’ their supposed day off. Sora’s sigh echoes in the dwindling hallway as he trudges back to his room. He’s exhausted (when is he not?), and he knew that his friends would bombard him with the Inquisition 2.0 once they caught sight of him. He wasn’t ready for that, wasn’t ready for their curiosity and concern to drown his lungs.

When he opens his door, however, a bright smile greets him.

“Sora!” Kairi smiles, pulling him in to a tight and comforting (so very comforting and warm) embrace. “Where’d you go all morning? We missed you!”

The wisps of their concern wraps around Sora’s neck.

“Yeah, hotshot,” Riku says from where he’s lounging on the bed. A smirk dances on his lips. “Quit your disappearing act.”

Sora rolls his eyes, shutting his door with his foot.  A smile slips easily on his lips (but it doesn’t feel real, doesn’t seem bright) as he plops down on his bed. He’s exhausted (so, so tired). The mattress dips underneath Kairi’s weight as she climbs on the bed, curling against Sora’s back. Sora is squished between Riku and Kairi; a sandwich, he thinks.

 _A Sora sandwich,_ Xion giggles.

Roxas is silent, slumbering deeply inside of his heart.

Sora closes his eyes, exhaustion pulling at the depths of his mind. Riku and Kairi speak to one another, switching from one inane topic to the other. Their warmth is comforting, and Sora slowly slips into a place where he’s not asleep yet not awake. He drifts quietly, listening to the murmuring tones of Riku and the soft, tinkles of Kairi. He feels safe, curled between them.

Like this, like always, their touch negates all emotions except his own. For once, all Sora feels is silence.

A blanket is placed on his shoulders, and someone gently runs their fingers through his hair, and Sora drifts into a sea of slumber.

His rest is unpleasant.

(it is filled with drifting memories of Twilight Town, and sea salt ice cream, and worlds of shifting sands and cold, cold seas, and Axel’s ( ~~Lea’s~~ ) deep laughter (laughter that echoes and seeps into empty crevices). It is filled with fingers pressing against his skin, his hands, his chest, his heart. It is filled with the memory of lips ghosting across his, murmuring mouths kissing (sweetly, so sweet) his shoulder. It is filled with Demyx breaking out into a song with no music, his blond hair flying about its’ a hazard all on its’ own. It is filled with Axel ( ~~Lea~~ ) saying, “Got it memorized?”. It is filled with a boy sacrificing his life, and a girl shattering in the arms of another, her scattered pieces drifting in the serene air of a town that shouldn’t exist.)

Sora isn’t surprised when he wakes, grief cold hands wrapping around his neck, screaming—no, he isn’t screaming (Roxas is, though). He’s sobbing (so is Xion).

(like everything Sora does now, the sobs are quiet and soft but the grief and remorse intermingle with it)

_I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_

The sobs burn his throat as they force their way out, and the tears are wet and salty and gross sliding down his face. His heart thumps wildly against his ribcage, almost painfully, to the point where Sora is terrified of spiraling into another attack. His breath hitches, and he trembles violently enough to disturb the other two slumbering next to him.

“Sora?” Riku speaks, sitting upright, blue eyes (so blue, like the ocean, like the waters surrounding Destiny Islands, like ~~home~~ ) warm with worry. His concern spirals up Sora’s leg, and Kairi’s urgency nestles by his ribs. His hands (so warm, and lifeful against his skin) cradle the sides of his face, thumbs wiping away the tears. “Hey, it’s ok. It’s alright.”

“It was just a bad dream,” Kairi whispers against his neck. She’s rubbing comforting, soft circles on his arms. “Just a nightmare.”

_I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_

“Just a nightmare,” Riku echoes.

Cold fingers grip his heart, pull and squeeze at its strings, and Sora finds the sobs uncontrollable, inevitable, irrevocable, as he curls into himself, into the shadows that flick at his spine. Riku and Kairi, they do their best to uncover what ails him, but Sora is tightlipped. He swallows the rising sobs and gasps for breath as though he were drowning. The aftermath leaves him exhausted, but his shoulders still tremble, and Kairi’s and Riku’s worry dances across his skin.

_I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_

“It’s okay,” Kairi whispers.

“We’re here,” Riku says, fingers pressing against Sora’s skin. (fingers press against his collarbone, scratch at his lungs, peel open his heart so blood will taint the rest of the world)

“I’m sorry,” Sora says, words that aren’t his prying his mouth open. It is a chant spilling out of Roxas’s mouth, short of drowning out Xion’s distant cries. His heart aches. His lungs burn. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, fingers clutching the front of Riku’s shirt, wrist shaking, head pounding. Riku’s alarm sours his tongue, and Kairi’s worry brushes across his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Sora echoes, and it is words that are his own but aren’t.

He is apologizing, and he doesn’t know why (but there are parts of him, aching parts, shattered parts, that do).

His eyes burn from the tears, and they droop from the exhaustion that seeps into his bone. Sora’s head drops against Riku’s chest, and the hands are removed from his face; one sprawls its fingers through his hair, the other joins Kairi in her rubbing motions. Sora’s shoulders still tremble but he’s silent enough that Riku and Kairi whisper above him.

“Riku…I don’t think that was _just_ a nightmare,” Kairi whispers, breath light against his shoulder blades.

Riku makes a noise of agreement, and says, “A memory, probably.”

They’re silent for a short pause, and then Kairi breathes out, voice breaking in a way that twists Sora’s heart, “He was _screaming_ , Riku.”

“Yeah,” Riku says, fingers pausing. Sora makes a soft, protesting noise (because he really was falling asleep, and Riku’s fingers felt like heaven), and Riku continues his soothing movements. “He was saying…he was saying…”

Kairi finishes with a quiet, “Axel.”

“Yeah. Axel.”

_I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_

Sora wakes to an empty bed and a distant memory of a girl in an abandoned mansion fading from his mind. Tears threaten to fall (Roxas is still murmuring _I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m_ sorry) but he swallows the urge and sits upright. His bed is empty, but warmth curls at his sides. Through the thin curtains, the sky is painted dark reds and oranges and hues of pink. Sunset. Sora breathes in and out, like clockwork, and feels everyone’s emotions caress his skin (it feels like the fingers that press, press, press against his heart). The world is quiet, peaceful almost, but Sora is a storm, a battlefield streaked with the blood of the fallen (he is a corridor of darkness, black and bleak, curling shadows and wisps of evil).

If Sora thinks hard enough, he can smell the scent of Twilight Town. He can smell an ocean breeze and petroleum, sea salt ice cream and sweat from the sandlot. He can hear the shrieks and trickling laughter of children as they scamper about the arching streets. But Sora can also smell the scent of rain clinging to towering trees and mossy trunks. He can smell rusted iron, and dusty shelves. He can smell ink drying on pages, watercolors and acrylic.

(if he tries to remember, he can see fading images of a girl (blonde, she was blonde) in a white dress. she had a smile like Kairi’s, bright and soft and angelic (Xion whispers a name but static washes over Sora’s ears, a long-forgotten spell waking from its slumber), and eyes are such a—)

“Sora!”

His door slams open.

It’s Ventus, who enters his room jubilantly (there is sadness pulling at Sora’s ankles, like deadweights), but pauses at the sight of Sora huddled on his bed, knees tucked underneath his chin. Ventus blinks, and so does Sora. The silence is haunting as it hangs before them.

Someone yells, their voice echoing, “Dinner!”

“Food,” Ventus says, weakly, blankly, as though he doesn’t know what to do (he doesn’t, Sora can attest to that). “Um. Uh.”

“Okay,” Sora says, and breathes through his nose. “Be right there.” He closes his eyes, breathing deeply to calm his racing heart (it beats in his throat), and Ventus’ concern pools inside of his lungs. “I’m _fine_ , Ven.”

“No,” Ventus says, like Yuffie (and Roxas and Xion). “No, you’re not.”

Sora doesn’t bother to fight.

(he is tired of fighting)

Dinner is a raucous affair as Sora does what he does best: pretend. He laughs boisterously, makes corny jokes that pull at Kairi’s lips, ignores the emotions drifting across the expanse of his skin, and eats the delicious food laid before him. (it burns his tongue, feels like slime curling down his throat)

After dinner, Sora finds himself wandering down the stretching aisles of the castles’ library. _Maybe there’s a spell,_ he thinks as he trails his finger against the spines of books, one that could help him sleep. He didn’t know what he was looking for, exactly, nor where he’d find the sort of spell he needed. He sighs, after an hour of searching futilely, hope cold against his lungs, and makes his way to his room.

Riku is there, lounging on the bed like he owns it. “Hey,” he says, glancing at Sora from his book.

“Hm,” Sora says, curling up next to him with sluggish movements. He’s tired. (so tired so tired)

Riku’s fingers bury themselves in his hair and a content sigh slips from Sora’s tongue. Riku laughs, quietly, softly, but Sora is halfway to dreamland, fatigue pulling at his bones. By the time Kairi joins them, limbs sprawling over him, Sora is falling into the oceans of Atlantis. He wakes up in the middle of the night, Riku snoring quietly in his ear, Kairi is murmuring spells against the crevice of his neck. The memory of Destiny Islands and the peak of childhood fades from the front of his mind, and he shudders, and breathes.

Kairi snorts in her sleep, and Riku hooks his leg around Sora’s, and their warmth is comforting. Sora feels at peace. He thinks, maybe, just maybe, he will be ok.

 _You will,_ Xion whispers, and Roxas agrees.

Sora slips back into dreamland, and emotions, like always, flutter across his skin.

 


End file.
